Keep the Streets Empty
by Long Tongue Liar
Summary: Garrus finds Shepard in an unusually vulnerable state. ONESHOT.


That night, he waits for her in her quarters. She didn't instruct him to. In fact, she hadn't said anything all day -not to him, not to anyone.

Which is precisely why he's reclined on her couch waiting for her return. He knows she needs him. He knows she needs _someone_, as loathe as she is to admit it. He watched the light fade out of her eyes today and to be frank, it scares him. It scares the rest of the crew too. Shepard is an unwavering presence, she is the rock, the support, the driving artisan of everything that occurs. The slightest dent in her armor resonates through the whole ship.

So he waits. He replays her face in his minds eye. The tight mouth, the tight eyes. Her shoulders were hunched, as if body language alone would keep everyone out. Or keep something else _in_. He's not sure. He's known Shepard for a long time. He knows her. But she's impossible to understand at the worst of times. He can do nothing but wait. And wait he does.

It takes forty minutes for the doors to slide open. Garrus doesn't move immediately. He remains still and watches her through the opening in the shelf adjacent to his position. She rips off her helemet and hurls it to the opposite wall. It hits with a loud crack and then rolls away. The Turian smirks a bit. He's never seen her really lose her cool before. And part of him thinks it might be amusing to watch her have a fit and let go of her composure for a minute. He stays silent still, hoping for some comical temper tantrum or a slew of inappropriate curse words.

Instead, he watches her double over. The wind rushes out of her in one push through the pink design of her mouth. Almost as if she's been bunched. He stiffens, body braced for action. Gunmetal, predatory eyes scan her in a distinct instance of silence. Then, he watches her break.

The tears are silent at first. Her chin ducks to her chest and her eyes squeeze shut. Tracks of water slip with some dignity down the bridge of her nose and her right cheek. A guttural sob echoes next. She gasps for air as the sob wrenches her forward. Garrus is on his feet.

"Shepard?"

She doesn't hear him. Her legs buckle under her and she hits the floor with an agonized exhale. Her sobs drag out of her one by one, each harder, more painful than the last.

"Shepard!"

Garrus rushes to her side and crouches. He holds both of her trembling shoulders. She looks up at him for a brief moment, as if just noticing his presence, and blinks bloodshot eyes. The blearly look is fleeting. For the next second her head hangs again and her body expels wails that sound as if they're being dug up from the very depths of her soul. He lets her cry. He supports her as her body quits and she hangs over his arm, crying so hard she almost retches. Her tears paint the floor. He can feel her darkness seeping into every inch of him. No one sees her like this. She's refused them all. He's seen it by sheer accident. And he almost wishes he hadn't. This is…unsettling. Terrifying, in fact.

But he's here. As he will always be for her. So when her sobs subside into weak coughs and she trembles, Garrus collects her into the strong vice of his arms. She allows him to pick her up from the floor and carry her to her bed. He lays her down gently and then sits on the edge. Her breathing calms. He looks over his armored shoulder at her red face, tucked against the pillow. Her eyes are closed. Her body curled. He thinks she's asleep and he goes to leave.

But he makes a movement to stand and her hand reaches out. She stops him at the wrist and he regards her with systematic eyes.

"Stay," she whispers, barely comprehensible. Her eyes blink up at him. He barely needs a translator with a look like that.

He says nothing, but obliges and lowers himself to her side. He lays lengthwise against her and she presses her body against his.

They lay like that until morning, and in the morning they don't speak about it. They'll probably never speak about it, he ventures. Shepard doesn't like to dwell on her weaknesses. But the message is clear. If it hadn't been before, now it's outlined in stone.

He's here. He'll always be here.

There is no Shepard without Vakarian.


End file.
